


Shortbread and Whisky

by Crumblecookiebatch



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 03:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1729433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crumblecookiebatch/pseuds/Crumblecookiebatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young Benedict blunders his way to watch a cricket match for an old school friend when he meets Tom. Shenanigans ensues with an extra helping of shortbread and whisky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shortbread and Whisky

The bike stuttered to a halt. It had most certainly seen better days and those better days had definitely been long before its current owner had ever clapped eyes upon it. There was, after all, only so much that one could afford when one was in their early twenties, struggling to make their way and having just changed their work status from drama student to miserably failing, or perhaps just miserable, ‘jobbing actor’.

However, if youth were time, Ben would be pushing up the daisies, as he was late _again_ to an appointment. He had promised to see one of his younger Harrovian friends playing cricket in the under 18s against Eton at Eton’s cricket Pavilion.

The match was well under way when he arrived. The only problem was, he was fucked as to if he had any idea which school was which in their cricket whites. He could always stutter an apology to Tim at the end, that’s if he managed to work out who Tim was from this distance. He uttered apologies as he shyly ambled his way through the crowds of proud parents.

By the time half-time came, Ben was gasping for a cigarette but didn’t want to look like some sort of juvenile delinquent, or get disappointing glares from anyone. It was bad enough that his dress sense could in no way be described as ‘natty’ nor that he was a man who knew his threads. So he once again fumbled his way through the crowd until he reached the back of the cricket pavilion, hastily pulling out a cigarette and lighter as he did so.

‘Ooooh naughty, naughty,’ One of the cricket players, Harrow or Eton, he had no clue strolled up to him, with a grin on his face like a Cheshire cat. ‘Just adding to your smell of eau-de-diesel and not the designer kind. I saw you arrive. Is your bike leaking fuel or something? I’m sorry that was perhaps a bit rude of me. Name’s Tom.’

Ben made a sound halfway between a cat being strangled and the gargled cry of a rabid squirrel. He had never seen a boy, so….beautiful. It was like he was emitting sunlight, or perhaps that was just the combination of the cricket whites and the angle of the sun at this time of day. He had no idea. He barely knew who he was. What was his name again? Oh god the boy was looking slightly concerned for him.

‘B-e-n. Ben. Sorry, just a bit tired. You know how it is?’ He garbled.

‘How what is exactly?’ Tom raised an eyebrow in a patiently inquisitive manner.

‘Life, you know. Just life. Besides I’m here to see my friend Tim playing. Promised I’d come along but then I forgot this morning. Got absorbed by a good book that I’m reading, then I looked up and discovered the match was already ten minutes in before I had time to gather my wits and my keys.’ Oh God why could he not stop talking? Maybe he was trying to mask the charisma or holy light that emanated from this boy. No, he’d already discerned it was just the physics of light.

‘Ah right. Well I’d join you for a cigarette but I don’t smoke. Just sneak the occasional drink into my room after hours. Got a friend in the year above, who supplies it after his trips home. My favourite is whisky but I’d be happy for the Pimm’s that they’re serving up today. Looks damn fine to me.’

It wasn’t until this point in time that Ben realised that the two of them hadn’t stopped making eye contact since seeing one another and that he no longer felt the need to have a cigarette. However, now he was standing with the lighter limply in one hand and the cigarette dangling in the other, he knew he had to have it. He was also tremendously aware that those were the only two things on his person which appeared to be hanging flaccidly in their usual place. He tried not to think too much about his pants.

As smoothly as he could under the circumstances, which he had to admit was about as smooth as the five o’ clock shadow on his chin, he lit the cigarette and took one deep drag to calm his nerves down. He was at a bloody school cricket match. He shouldn’t be acting like a _schoolboy._

Having given his most impressive smoke exhalation, it was when his eyes were on the return journey back from his cigarette up to the other boy’s eyes that he became aware of two things. Firstly, was that he was no longer the only one who was aware of the impromptu party in his pants and secondly as he saw Tom’s eyes sliding back up from his crotch, that his companion now had a knowing smirk plastered to his face.

‘Guessing from the pattern of your Old Boy’s tie, I’m not the only one batting for the other side, in both senses of the term.’ Tom grinned, energy twinkling out of his eyes yet at the same time a part of his face held the quiet reservation of youth.

For the second time that day Ben felt like he was being drowned and deciding that he needed all of the oxygen that he could get, dropped his cigarette down and stamped it out.

‘I guess so,’ He coughed, ‘I, er, you do mean that how I think you do? I mean I don’t usually do this. That is to say I shouldn’t. Which is to say-‘

Ben was cut short as Tom bridged the distance between the two of them and throwing all cautions to the gentle breeze of the cricket pavilion met Ben’s lips with just as much trepidation and anticipation as Ben himself. He fumbled to get his hands around Tom, who seemed to have less reservation about embracing and was already going for a hearty back stroke to match that of his tongue, which was now somehow in Ben’s mouth. Ben couldn’t remember when that happened but it felt good, as did the pulsating celebration lingering in his boxer shorts. What the hell. He couldn’t see anyone in his peripherals and pushed himself closer to Tom, deepening the kiss.

They separated with the look of wine connoisseurs having just tasted an impeccably good red and both nodded their approval to one another.  However Ben noticed a brief flash of pain cross Tom’s eyes and he panicked, thinking he had done something wrong.

‘Are you ok?’ He whispered.

‘Yes,’ Tom returned his look of concern with a wry smile, ‘Just my box doesn’t seem to have been designed with enough room to contain my excitement, as it were.’

‘Ben! Ben! I was wondering where you’d bloody got to. Late again?’ Tim ran around the back of the pavilion, ‘Oh god you’re not fraternising with the enemy over a smoke are you? I didn’t know Etonian’s had the capability to be badass.’

The two companions jumped apart with the same speed as the safety adverts from the government that demonstrate the child touching the electric pylon, whilst exchanging shifty glances.

‘No, no. Holy Hamlet! Of course not.’ Ben’s voice raised several octaves as he tried to casually gesture his way out of the awkward. He gave Tom a meaningful glance, who was now staring at him as if he were the one emanating light. Maybe the position of the sun had changed or something…

‘Guess I’ll head off then,’ Tom mumbled before mouthing the phrase ‘holy Hamlet’ under his breath as he rounded the side of the cricket pavilion.

Ben couldn’t remember the last time that he’d sweated so much and decided that maybe his acting skills could finally see the light of day to at least one audience member. He jovially clapped his friend on the arm and walked out from the shadow of the back of the cricket pavilion into the contrast of the sunshine and Pimm’s of the relaxed adults. He could almost convince himself that the last ten minutes hadn’t happened.

Having had a brief catch up with Tim, he watched the rest of the cricket match as if in a trance and couldn’t help but let his eyes stray over to the tall, lithe boy, who was certainly good at more than just batting. Luckily, Harrow marginally won, so at least when he would go to see Tim afterwards, he’d be in a good mood.

Once, he was sure that most of the boys had either headed back to their respective schools to commiserate or to celebrate; Ben wandered over to the changing room to find Tim. They’d agreed that they’d meet up afterwards for a quick wander and a chat, as the late heat of the afternoon sun in spring was too good to spend indoors.

The changing room smelled gaggingly of Lynx occasionally intermingled with the kind of sweat that made you glad that you hadn’t been born in London three hundred years previously. There didn’t seem to be anyone left and only a rather morose looking jumper lingered on one of the benches, as if it too wished it could plug up its nose. However, Ben could hear the showers running and nervously called out for his friend. He had an irrational fear of being caught by a teacher for being in the wrong room, then realised that he’d simply be asked to leave instead of writing out lines.

‘Tim,’ He called gently.

The squeaky sound of the shower being turned off sounded and he heard damp footsteps slapping their way along the tiles of the changing room, reverberating through each locker until a very damp haired and pleasantly wet looking Tom appeared.

‘I saw some of the Harrovians dragging him off to celebrate a while back. He seemed to protest for a brief while about needing to meet his friend but then he got swamped by them and I haven’t seen him since.’ Tom informed him, looking perfectly calm and serious, considering his distinct lack of garb.

‘Well…thanks I guess. I’ll just be off then.’ Ben muttered, slowly turning around to face the exit of the now stifling changing room. Before he’d turned he’d managed the most covert of covert glances in the history of covert glances. In fact so covert was the glance, he felt he’d earned a degree on the subject.

‘You not going to have one last hug, mate?’ Ben turned around to see Tom with his arms open wide and grinning.

‘Maybe if you get dressed first. Or at least put a towel on!’ Ben almost screeched, three years of improvisational acting had in no way prepared him for this scenario.

‘Well I’d give you more than a hug. I’d give you a proper rogering’ Tom winked, approaching Benedict and tugging on his tie, with a wild look in his eyes like a lion that has spotted an antelope. ‘If you were actually interested in me anyway mate.’

‘Oh Goodness. No I want to! I do! I would but I er. Perhaps not here.’ Ben’s head swivelled around the changing room nervously, like an owl watching a tennis match.

‘Ok then. Well while I’m getting dried and dressed can you please explain your wondrous expletive that is ‘Holy Hamlet’.’ Tom disappeared behind the lockers once more, ‘I can still hear you from over here.’

‘Oh sorry. I’m actually an actor. Well I’m trying my best to be. I’ve done a couple of small scale productions in the past few months. I graduated with a BA in Drama last year. Therefore Shakespeare occasionally explodes its way into my vocabulary.’

The sound of someone accidently hitting their arm off a locker door could be heard and a yell of ‘Ouch, shit, sorry.’

‘You ok?’ Benedict called.

‘Yeah sorry, you just took me by surprise. I’ve always wanted to act. Well perhaps that’s an over exaggeration. Not always but certainly for a long time. I just wasn’t too sure. I’ve been in loads of productions though.’

‘Me too! I performed in so many in school. I feel my prize performance was one in ‘A Midsummer Night’s dream.’ Ben’s voice raised in excitement.

‘That’s awesome. Ok! I’m ready. Now if we just sneak you into my room somehow or other and avoid any staff we should be good to go. Now is probably the best time as it is dinner. I can drop you off there and then go to dinner. If that’s ok? You’ll be alright on your own won’t you? Do you need me to bring you some food back?’ Tom reeled off.

‘No I should be fine thank you. If you’re anything like me, I’m sure you’ll have a secret biscuit stash in your drawer.’ Ben winked.

‘Oh you know me so well. As long as you like shortbread.’

Sneaking into the dorm had gone far better than either of them could have dreamed. They didn’t come across one soul and they’d only stopped three times because they were both paranoid that they’d heard a noise- well Ben was paranoid at any rate. He felt like he was trying to steal the crown jewels. Well perhaps he would be receiving some less royal ones tonight. Oh God. What was happening to him? He tried not to think about what might or might not happen later on. The only experience he’d ever had of this kind was a mutual crafty one under the duvet with Peter Perkins in Year 9. It only happened once and god forbid either of them ever alluded to it again.

The door sounded two hours after Tom had gone for dinner and Ben felt a hollow swooping sensation in his stomach but was relieved to see Tom stroll in. Relieved yet bilious. This was the point where if he was caught he would most certainly be in some sort of trouble. As would Tom.

Would they actually have-oh god. He was so nervous.

As soon as the door had shut behind him Tom came straight over to where Ben was sitting and kissed him again. The second time was somehow even better than the first and Ben was relieved to note that Tom was shaking slightly too.

‘We don’t have to do this or anything you know. If you don’t want to.’ Ben mumbled into Tom’s ear.

‘But I do want to. Eton didn’t score well enough today but we certainly can tonight. I just. I’ve never done _anything_ like this before. Apart from this one time, when er. It was in the shower. We just. Helped one another out. Like good friends should. Of course no one knows. We never mentioned it again and when we had a falling out a few months ago he called me a bender. But other than that no. I have not done anything like this.’

‘Oh well I have had a similar experience…’ Ben relayed the story of him and Perkins to Tom and they both lay back on the bed together chuckling heartily before realising that it would sound like Tom had a bad case of Jekyll and Hyde going on and then proceeding to laugh harder. Once they’d finished, which took several moments of looking at each other before bursting into laughter again and then having to both stare at the ceiling, they realised that they were tremendously close to each other. Ben made a move to shuffle back off the bed before Tom grabbed his arm.

‘I don’t mind,’ He whispered, ‘You can be as close as you like.’

Ben relaxed back into his position and absentmindedly traced patterns onto Tom’s arm. They lay like that for goodness knows how long just staring at each other and grinning like idiots until there was an absence of closing doors and voices in the corridor. It must be curfew.

‘Shit.’ Tom muttered, ‘Curfew. Get into the cupboard or something. Our college mothers check on us about now. It’ll be fine though. They never look too-‘

Tom’s voice was cut off as there was a sharp rap at the door. Benedict had just managed to leg it to the cupboard before he heard the door opening. He managed to time the shutting of the cupboard door with the opening of the door of the room perfectly and was just commending himself on his genius when he realised that he was a 22 year old man in a 17 year old's room. In a boarding school. What the hell was he doing?!!

‘You ready for bed Tom? Your room’s tidy as always though you may want to get rid of those biscuit crumbs on your desk. Late evening snack?’

‘I, oh, yes. Silly me I completely forgot that I ate a whole packet of biscuits earlier.’ The latter part of the sentence was delivered in a raised voice and had Benedict not have been having a mental breakdown in the cupboard about his morals he might have felt guilty. But it was some damn good shortbread.

‘You’re not ready for bed though. Get your pajamas on then lights out. You are off to bed now aren’t you? Good. Good night.’ The door shut with a swift click and Benedict felt like he could finally breathe again.

Tom opened the door smiling. His smile quickly dropped as he saw the state of panic that Ben was in.

‘Hey Ben. It’s ok. Luckily, she didn’t spot the different stripe from your tie on the bed from when you took it off earlier and I can always get some more biscuits. You shouldn’t look so worried.’

Benedict had tried to maintain a poker face but then started to sob, ‘It’s not that. I’m so so sorry. I’m a horrible person. Look at what I’m doing. I should know better. I’m like some sort of creeper…’

‘Look I know I’m young but I’m not that young. I _want_ this, as long as you do. I don’t want you to feel guilty. Also if you do want this. I have this,’ Tom produced an almost empty bottle of Teacher’s whisky out of a pair of socks. Ben chuckled. It would be ok wouldn’t it?

One empty bottle and one open condom packet later and their bodies were tangled together in the most intimate of dances. They were kissing each other with a raw desperation, from their fiery whisky drenched tongues. Ben tangling his hands in Tom’s hair and Tom holding onto Ben’s firm buttocks. They laced kiss after kiss onto each other’s necks, lips, stomachs, until they both struggled to keep their hands from roving down to each other’s members.

They did it almost simultaneously and jolted in pleasure, shocked as to how good it felt. This was no crafty wank, nor was it helping each other out in the shower. It was so much more than that. So much more of a connection. Their eyes struggled to decide whether to keep eye contact with the other or to drink the beauty of the other’s body which reflected perfectly the light streaming in through the window from the lamp outside. It was unfettered lust at its best.

The only argument they had was as to who was going to be the one to take it. Neither of them wanted the other one in pain. They were both far too chivalrous and far too considerate to want the other one to be uncomfortable. In the end, they flipped a coin.

‘You’re a stubborn bastard you know,’ Tom whispered throatily into Ben’s ear as he stroked his cock.

‘And you too are a persistent git. I don’t suppose you’re from Yorkshire.’ Ben chuckled into Tom’s chest, giving long languorous strokes to Tom’s respective member, ‘Guess you’d best get ready. I’ll be gentle.’

They decided to do it standing, so that there wasn’t any risk of twanging spring or creaking headboard if they got too carried away. Eddie, who inhabited the room next door, would not thank him for that. Ben positioned Tom close to a small bare patch of wall so that he could brace himself but Tom was having none of it.

‘We’ll be stable like this. Just hold me tight.’ Tom grabbed Benedict’s hands stroking his palms, whilst placing them tenderly onto his hips. Ben awkwardly pulled on the condom with quivering fingers. He prayed to the gods that the condom was slippery enough to make the situation as comfortable for Tom as he could.

Ben took his time entering him, gradually sliding his penis in bit by bit until his whole length was inside him. It felt so good. Tom shuddered and gasped beneath him. Ben leaned in and kissed his neck.

‘You alright, Tom?’ Ben whispered, concern for how painful this must be for his friend washing over him in waves.

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ He groaned back, ‘If it wasn’t so uncomfortable it would actually feel pretty good.’

‘Do you want me to stop?

‘No, Lear, no. We’re this far. Just go slow.’

Ben slowly began to thrust in and out, taking care not to go too fast, though it was so tempting to. Words could not describe how good it felt and from the faint jolting movement coming from Tom’s hips, Tom was pleasuring himself whilst doing it too. With this knowledge, his worries swiftly subsided and soon he began to enjoy it; rhythmically moving in and out. Ben leaned his head further forward and their lips began the familiar dance that had started a mere six hours or so ago but felt like forever. They felt so connected.

Ben came with a sharp gasp a short while later and pulled out shaking, where he proceeded to move his hand from Tom’s hip to stroke his penis until Tom too came with a faint moan and a gasp. Having completed their surreptitious deed, they turned and hugged each other for a long time, before letting go and collapsing onto the bed.

Within moments, Tom was asleep.

Tom awoke the next morning feeling excellent minus the pain stemming from his derriere. Lying tangled in the webs of slumber, he was confused as to what the pain was until he remembered yesterday’s events. He swiftly opened his eyes, terrified that he would be caught in bed with Ben. However, there was no one there. Ben must have left early. Tom was relieved yet sad. Would he ever see him again? Or had it just been a one off thing? Maybe he was so dreadful that Ben had hated it.

It wasn’t until Tom rolled over that he spotted a full bottle of Teacher’s whisky and a packet of shortbread tucked into the duvet with a Harrovian tie wrapped around it. There was that and the sound of a very decrepit motorbike rattling down the street. He closed his eyes and smiled.


End file.
